


December 21

by hope_calaris



Category: Franklin & Bash
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/pseuds/hope_calaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It gets better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December 21

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The moment unicorns are real, I make money with this.

There are several ways to begin this story:

Peter hates December 21. Not like he hates Mondays or March 14 (the date he lost his very first case), no, he hates it quieter and yet more intensive. He’d love to drop that date from all calendars or at least make it only appear in leap years -- that kind of hate.

Peter doesn’t like to drive down Robertson Boulevard. If he can he’ll rather make a detour. For half a year, he’s spent every Thursday afternoon there, waiting for Jared to get out from his therapist’s appointments. Peter can still tell how many windows the house has (14 altogether), and that the shop next to it sells Hello Kitty merchandise. There’s also a tea room across the street, and the thought of Earl Grey makes Peter feel nauseous nowadays.

Peter is generally fine with phone calls, but phone calls around ten in the evening when Jared’s not around usually end with him being a mess before he can even pick up his phone.

All of these beginnings are true, but none of them capture the whole story.

The whole story involves a slowly settled in distance between them, because Peter had his Football scholarship and training and his team, and Jared had his father’s ideas and the Law Journal and his colleagues. None of them had friends, though. Not the kind of friends they were used to, at least. Peter didn’t tell Roger from his team that Janie wouldn’t agree to a date with him, and Jared didn’t tell his editor Marcus that his father had found yet another girlfriend.

The whole story talks about the start of Christmas break without a proper goodbye, just a quickly written down note passed between them, and the first time in years that Peter didn’t know what to get Jared as a gift. He simply had no idea what he liked at the moment.

The whole story is not really something you could call a plot with a shocking Hollywood twist, but to Peter it appeared that way. It turned his whole world upside down. Seemingly coming out of the blue, hitting him right where it hurts the most.

_Blindsided. Stupid. Ignorant._ He has a few choice words for himself when he thinks about it now, but usually he’s good at not thinking about it.

Today is December 21, though.  

Peter has never been good at dealing with December 21 since that year.

He wakes up way too early in the morning and spends an hour just staring at the ceiling. He gets up when his back starts to hurt and his lips start to feel dry. He fills a glass of water in the kitchen, but promptly forgets about it when his eyes wander to Jared’s closed bedroom door. Normally, Peter is not the creepy kind of guy who sneaks into other people’s bedroom, but normally it’s not December 21. Peter is allowed one day of crazy paranoia once a year.

Jared sleeps on his side, his mouth slightly open and his right arm hanging down from the bed. Peter sits down in front of the bed, his legs crossed. He does nothing else, just sits there and watches Jared breathe, simply because he’s still there for Peter to watch.

He feels heavy and sad and ridiculously happy at the same time, and he has to bite his lips because he’s not sure he actually wants to hear the sound that’s threatening to escape from his throat.

“It’s okay,” Jared says and slowly opens his eyes. He’s still sleepy, an imprint from the pillow on his cheek, but he stretches his right arm until he finds Peter’s hand and squeezes it. And Peter hears and feels him, but he also hears the quiet “I miss you” from that cold night a million years ago and he remembers the feeling of his whole word slipping away under his fingers. “I’m sorry, I just … I can’t” still rings in his ears. Most days he doesn’t hear it over Jared’s laughter and his brilliance in court, but today it is as crystal clear as it was in that night.

Peter doesn’t know what it feels like to come home to something which doesn’t deserve the name, doesn’t know how Christmas is without a tree and eggnog and a family who laughs at really horrible performances of the worst Christmas songs; but he does know what it feels like to spend an hour driving through the night, desperately yelling at his cell phone, after his best friend had called him to say goodbye.

He squeezes his eyes shut when he remembers the harsh wind on the bridge as he got out of the car; how Jared had felt so cold and so small when Peter had hugged him, turning them around so it was Peter’s back to the railing.

“It’s okay,” Jared repeats, his thumb gently running over the back of Peter’s hand. “I’m here,” he says and scoots over to make room for Peter in his bed. It takes a while, because Peter’s legs feel like jelly and his head like he hasn’t slept properly in days, but finally they lie face to face in the bed, their fingers still threaded together.

“M’sorry,” Peter murmurs, because this is what he always says on December 21.

“Don’t be,” Jared replies, because this is what he always says on December 21.

“Still … you … ” And he trails off, like he always does, because he doesn’t need to say these things anymore. Jared knows them.

“I promised,” Jared reminds him, a tiny, thankful smile on his face.

“Yes, you did,” Peter says and feels calmer already. Jared moves a bit closer, his breath ghosting over Peter’s shirt.

“Can I get some more sleep now?” Jared asks gently, and Peter knows that Jared would forego much needed sleep and play Gran Turismo 5 with him until dawn, but he feels better now. Not okay, but then, he’ll never feel okay on December 21.

“Sure, sleepyhead,” he says and puts his arm over Jared’s shoulder before he closes his eyes.

“Thanks,” Jared mumbles, and they both know it’s more than a thank you for more sleep.

“You’d do the same,” Peter whispers and feels Jared nodding against his chest.

And that’s the end of the story:

Peter still hates December 21, he will never like tea very much and late night phone calls make him nervous, but that is, if not okay, then at least manageable, because it means he still gets to hold Jared in his arms on December 21.

_\- fin_


End file.
